The List
by misquotesandeighthnotes
Summary: Non-Magic AU. Love. Murder. 50's nostalgia. What more could we ask for?


_**Author's Note**_ _ **:**_ **Okay, pals. This is not my usual fluff/smut fun that I like to share. It's a bit of a darker (possible crack) fic that was written for a playwriting class and ended with my professor asking, "Who hurt you, Riley?" Clearly an AU. There's love, there's murder, there's 50's nostalgia. What else could we ask for? ;)**

 **~Ri.**

Silverware clinked together in her hands as Regina Mills carefully set the table. Everything had to be perfect for her darling tonight, after the rough day Emma surely had at work. That new boss of hers was slowly getting on Emma's nerves - and Regina's, too. The brunette was tired of her wife coming home upset and worried at night, so, on a whim, she suggested Emma kill the insufferable fool. Of course, Emma thought it was a sick and twisted joke, but was it? Not even a little bit. As the weeks went on, the thought became more and more appealing. She pictured the different ways she could end the man; a knife to the heart? Too messy. Poison? Not right either. No, Regina Mills had always preferred a much more hands-on approach. Her fingers curling around the poor man's neck, slowly crushing his trachea. She grinned wickedly.

Regina broke from her thoughts and tenderly rested the last fork next to her plate before lighting the candle in the middle of the dining room table. She inhaled, breathing in the relaxing, sweet scent of vanilla. She turned to her coffee mug that was resting on the edge of the table and took a sip, feeling the caffeine rushing through her. She placed the flowered mug back on its saucer and made her way to the kitchen. Warm steam rolled out of the oven as she bent to check on her chicken breasts. They sizzled on the roasting pan. Her potatoes boiled in a pot above; the broccoli steaming alongside it. Regina smiled in appreciation for her own talents. She really was going to outdo herself this time around. She looked from her kitchen into the rest of her house. She admired the pink floral wallpaper that had been installed just days ago, and the smooth music playing in the background. Tonight, she chose a mix of jazz and blues, two genres re-imagined when the 20's had come back around. She shrugged. History did seem to repeat itself. She sat at the kitchen island, picked up her most recent cross-stitching project, and poked the small needle through the fabric, creating an image of love. Regina had never felt more peaceful than in this moment.

The door slammed. Emma came rushing into the room, her white and black striped button-up stained with blood. She began to pace back and forth between the dining room and the kitchen. Regina sipped her coffee and smiled, ignoring the blonde's clearly upset demeanor.

"Fuck."

It was little more than a whisper from the blonde.

"We should probably have dinner first, love," Regina joked, watching calmly as the blonde lost her mind.

"Fuck."

Hardly any louder this time, the word raced of the blonde's lips with a sense of urgency; of panic.

"I said dinner first, love," Regina's smirk could be heard through her words. "I made your favorite: chicken breasts with the orange marmalade glaze."

"Fuck!"

This time Emma practically screamed it, the full weight of what she had just done settling in.

"Alright!" Regina shouted in response, moving into Emma's path and halting the blonde's movements. "Fuck!" She roamed her hands over Emma's chest, moved them to her neck, and pulled the woman in for a searing kiss. Her fingers slid their way to the buttons and began quickly unfastening them. Emma jumped back in a panic, slapping her hands away.

"What are you doing?!"

"You kept saying you wanted to fuck, dear!" Regina feigned innocence, knowing that was nowhere near what Emma wanted. "I'm just giving my spouse what she wants, like all women should!" She slid her hands back up Emma's front and moved to unfasten the buttons. Again, her fingers were knocked away.

"Regina! Are you _blind?_ Can you not see all of this?" Emma gestured to her ruined clothing.

"All of what, dear?"

Emma stared at her in disbelief. She gestured to herself again.

"I have…." She trailed off, realization dawning on her. She blanched. "Blood. Ohmygod. I have b-b-blood all over me. I-I can't believe I have blood all over me." Emerald eyes, filled with fear and terror and regret met emotionless brown orbs. "Reggie, help," she pleaded.

"Oh, that."

"Yes, _**that**_ _._ "

"Honestly, dear, I thought you were trying to pull off some rugged, handsome, knight-in-shining-armor act," Regina explained, still not showing any worry. "You walk in the door after having just ripped a bear limb-from-limb to protect our family and demand sex as your reward, and, well, honey it's working!" She fanned herself, hot from her mind's imagery.

Emma stared back, horrified.

"Have you lost your mind?" She whispered in a panic.

"Have you?"

"OF COURSE I'VE LOST MY MIND! I KILLED A MAN TODAY!" Emma screamed, eyes wide and face twisted.

"Oh?" Regina stared calmly at her wife, "Which one?"

"Which- Which one?" Emma repeated, momentarily unable to create her own words. "Regina, I killed someone! Does it really matter which one?"

The brunette grinned and let out a small snort of laughter. She shook her head, reached out to put her hands on each side of her love.

"Sweetheart, it's 2053. Everyone has killed someone. Now which one did _you_ kill?"

"Everyone has… Every... **EVERYONE?** " Emma's face scrunched in confusion. What was her wife saying? And why wasn't she panicking? Had she…

"Well, I'm sure not _everyone_ , dear, but most."

The room was silent.

"Have _you?_ "

Regina dodged the question, "Oh, dear. Is this really that important right now? Just tell me who you murdered and-"

"Regina Cora Mills," the blonde drug her name out slowly, letting the other woman know she was serious, "have you murdered someone?"

Regina rolled her eyes and smiled softly, the flirtatious lilt to her voice still present despite all of the events that had occurred since Emma came rushing into the room, "My full name, love? Really?"

"Regina!"

The seriousness in Emma's eyes finally hit Regina. It was clear the blonde had had enough of her games. But this wasn't a game to Regina. She stared at her wife. Blood stained her clothes and matted her blonde hair. Her hands shook and her eyes filled with emotions. Clearly, this life wasn't for Emma. The blonde wasn't as excited and adrenaline-filled as Regina was when she made her first kill. She could still remember it; running that man over with her car had been the beginning of-

"REGINA!"

"Okay, okay!" Regina avoided eye contact, casually pretending to wipe the counter down as she answered the uncomfortable question. "Yes. I've murdered a few people." She paused her motions and her words and met eyes with her lover. "Are you happy now?"

Emma's eyes widened even further. She couldn't believe it. She and Regina had been together for years, yet there was so much she didn't know about the woman in front of her. She knew Regina had a taste for slight morbidity, but she had no clue she had spent years sleeping next to an outright murderous lunatic. What's worse: Regina didn't seem to see a problem with murdering anyone. She acted as if it was a casual stroll through the market, or a nice walk on the beach. The idea seemed to turn her on even. Emma stared, sad and confused, at the woman she thought she knew.

"A _few_?" She still couldn't believe it. "You've murdered a _few_? A few _people_?"

Regina only shrugged, "If that's what you'd call them."

"What else would I call them Regina?!" Emma screeched.

"Well, there's lots of words you could throw about: Scum. Vermin. Swine," Regina stopped for a moment, thinking. "I've got a list somewhere."

As Regina began searching through drawers, Emma began pacing again. She ran her fingers through her hair.

"A murderer," she exhaled to herself. "I married… a murderer. I married a murderer and now I've murdered someone and I have blood everywhere." Her panic rose. "Oh God, I have blood… am I ever going to-"

"Aha!" Regina shouted victory from her left, snapping Emma's attention to her, "I found it!"

"Found what?" Emma looked at her with exhaustion, wondering what could possibly come after all of this.

"My list!" Regina smiled back, the most blinding, purest smile Emma had ever seen on her face. She was enjoying this.

"Of people you murdered?" the shock of it all was wearing off and Emma felt defeated.

"Well, love, there are different categories to it," she explained.

"Categories?"

"Yes, such as 'People I Have Murdered,' 'People I Want to Murder,' and…" the brunette paused briefly, smiling sadly and continuing, "and 'People I May Have to Murder Someday, But Will Be Awfully Sad About.' There's only one name there."

"Whose name?" Emma stared straight into her wife's eyes, searching for something real in all of the madness.

"Dear, let's just focus on you right now," Regina placed one hand on Emma's cheek, hoping to soothe her worries. "Clearly you aren't okay."

Emma batted the hand away, not wanting anything to do with this mad woman. She was beginning to get angry " _I'm_ not okay? Regina, you _murder_ people!"

"Only a few!" the brunette defended.

"A _**few**_ is a _**few**_ too many!" she yelled bitterly.

Regina just blinked, not ready for the outrage that her confessions had brought. She falsely conceded, not feeling any remorse, "Sure it is, sweetheart." She sighed at this side of the blonde, but then felt excitement bubble inside her as her next thought hit her. She grabbed a pencil out of the drawer next to her and grabbed her list. "Now who did you murder? We can make your list on the back of my list!"

Emma's hands shot into the air, distancing herself from the entire situation. "I don't need a list!"

"Okay… no list," Regina repeated, "but you need to keep a kill count at the very least, my love. I just… I find that a list is the best way." Regina's eyes lit up at her next thought, "Ooh, and if you keep it detailed enough, you can even relive them later!"

Emma just stared for a moment.

"I'm not. Making. A list," each word was carefully punctuated.

"No worries, I'll make it for you, then!"

"I don't want it."

"No, love." Regina stared into her eyes, trying to share impart her wisdom, "You don't want it _now_. After a few more, you'll change your mind! And you'll wish you would've started with the first one!"

"R-Regina, what?!" The blonde grabbed her wife, practically shaking her in hopes she'd snap out of it. "Do you hear yourself?! I don't need a list because there won't be a few more!"

Regina smiled softly, the shaking not throwing her at all. "That's what I thought, too, my love," her smile grew, centimeter-by-centimeter, into a manic grin, "but once you start-"

Emma gave her one last shake, cutting her sentence. "I'm not _you_ ," she spat back.

Regina frowned. Tears built up in her eyes as she stared at the woman she thought had loved her. Of all people, she had never expected Emma to be the one to reject her. They had been through so much together and still managed to make it through and now… now she was what? Leaving her? Having her committed to an institution for the criminally insane? Thrown in prison? Regina walked to her seat at kitchen island, wounded by her wife's reaction to her favorite hobby. She picked up her cross-stitching. Examined the message of love and laughter in her house. _Their_ house. Emma slowly walked up behind her, but Regina just stared at the needle. It was small, but with a little help, it could do anything. It could embroider words of love; images of happiness. It could patch up holes; fix mistakes. It could do anything.

Emma carefully set her hands on her wife's hips, knowing she had misstepped in all of the shock.

"Regina, I didn't mean-"

Regina spun around and jabbed the needle into Emma's neck. She was right; the needle could do anything. It could even cause pain. It wasn't the same pain Emma made her feel, but it was something.

Regina was brought out of her thoughts by a shrill shriek of "REGINA! What the **fuck**!" but she didn't stop her motions. She knew the blonde would be fine. It was just a small needle, and she made sure not to knick any major arteries. Regina rolled her eyes. Emma did have a tendency to overreact, as was proven tonight.

Emma continued screaming while she tended to the small puncture wound in her neck. Regina mentally blocked out her cries, staring at the knife block in front of her. She pulled each one out, trying to decide which would be best. After three, she settled on her favorite. A double-edge serrated knife. The longest of them all. A shrill bell rang in the background; the timer alerting her to check her chicken. Regina grit her teeth at the noise and spun around, knife poised to strike. Emma caught her arm inches from the blonde's throat.

"REGINA!"

Regina blinked, staring blankly at her wife.

"Emma," she deadpanned. She raised her right brow as a scowl formed on her lips. She had really hoped the blonde would never have to see this side of her, but here they were.

They stared for a moment, Emma watching Regina's eyes for any sign of remorse; Regina watching hers for any sign of weakness. When it seemed forever, Regina feigned regret in her eyes, and Emma, trusting the woman she loved, loosened her grip. Regina stepped back.

"Emma I'm…" she trailed off.

Emma picked up the conversation, unsure of what she was feeling, but knowing that she loved her wife with all of her heart, "Regina, I don't know what's happening, but-"

"I'm not done, Emma." Regina interjected. She paused. Breathed. Smiled. Her lip twitched. "Emma I'm… I'm going to kill you."

Regina lunged forward with the knife. She narrowly missed the blonde as the woman rolled out of the way. They fought. Emma dodged the knife several more times, narrowly avoiding her own murder. They stopped on opposite sides of the island, staring each other down.

"I am not going to be a part of your list, dammit!" Emma spat, spurring a low laugh from her wife.

"You already are, my dear."

"Let me guess," Emma snorted her disdain, "People you may have to murder someday, but will be sad about?"

"That's what I'm going to miss about you, Emma," Regina lamented, slowly making her way around the island to pin the blonde against the counter. "Besides the love, and the laughs, and the way you knew how to do that thing with your tongue that I loved so much - besides all of that, I think it's just so adorable that you always figure things out a second too late." She leaned in and kissed her wife, feigning hurt when Emma pulled away. "I'll miss that silly little brain the most."

Regina swung her knife, Emma rolling out of the way one last time. Her hand swung to the stove and she grasped the handle of the cast iron pan. Chunks of roasted potatoes when flying as the blonde swung the pan as hard as she could. The crack was deafening when the pan made contact. Regina fell to the floor, dropping her knife along the way. She smiled up at Emma.

"Was that good for you?" she chuckled bitterly. "I know role play hasn't always been your strong suit, love."

"Reggie?" Emma asked, her eyes growing wider as she realized what she had just done. She dropped to her knees next to her wife. "Reggie I didn't mean to-"

Regina put a shaking finger up to the blonde's lips and spoke, "I told you, love. You won't be able to stop now that you've started."

"Reggie, I-"

"But t-two in one day, Emma?" Regina questioned, her breathing becoming ragged and uneven. "Even I never went that far."

"Regina?" Emma watched as Regina stopped breathing. "Regina, please." Emotion raged through her, "Reggie please don't leave me. I- I don't know what to do anymore." She laid her head on Regina's chest. "I never meant to do this, Reggie. I-It was all an accident and now- now I have two bodies and no one to help me." She sat back up, cradling Regina's head in her lap, the blood soaking her legs. Her tears flowed freely. "Regina, please say you're joking."

Emma stared at her wife, then lied down next to her. She cuddled into Regina's side, feeling her lasting warmth, crying until she her tears cleared, and there, just beyond Regina's body, she noticed it: in their struggle, Regina's list had fallen to the floor, the pencil just inches away. Emma crawled to it, picked it up, and flipped it over. She began to make her own list.


End file.
